


Every Lover is a Soldier

by 27dragons, tisfan



Series: Tales from the Communal Kitchen (the ex-assassins files) [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage and Discipline, Bruising, Collars, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Flavored Lube, Kink Negotiation, Kneeling, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Riding Crops, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safewords, Sexual Mishaps, Spanking, Sub Tony Stark, Teasing, Voyeurism, crawling, heating lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:31:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9708164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: The Winter Soldier spent a lot of time taking orders. Now Bucky wants to spend a little timegivingthem.Enter Tony, a fabricated bondage rig, and an afternoon free of avenging. Also, Tony is a bratty sub, but we all knew that already, right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> 8 Apr 2017: Edited to add AMAZING AND GLORIOUS ART from [sleepyoceanprince](http://sleepyoceanprince.tumblr.com/)! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!  
> 17 May 2017: Edited to add MORE AMAZING AND GLORIOUS ART from [velvetmetal](http://velvetmetal.tumblr.com/)! OMG OMG OMG THIS IS PERFECT THANK YOU!!!

“It’s like takin’ a test in school,” Bucky complained, pushing back from the papers he’d printed out -- blushing furiously the whole time as he’d done so, but there was no one to see, aside from JARVIS, who knew everything, anyway -- and standing up to stretch.

“Especially the way you do it,” Tony said, indicating the spray of papers. “You know we can just do this in the holos, right? I mean, you’d get three-dimensional models and spins. Heck, JARVIS could rig up an actual me-representation, he’s already got all my body scans and dimensions.”

Bucky strained toward the ceiling, wrists together, twisting his spine into a series of loud pops, sighing at the endorphin rush and pretending to ignore the way Tony stared at the thin strip of skin where Bucky’s shirt pulled free and rode up his side. Making Tony stare at him that way was about seventy percent of Bucky’s motivation in everything he did.

“I like paper, Tony,” Bucky reminded him. “‘Sides, if I had J do a complete mock-up, the real thing wouldn’t be as exciting.”

Tony pouted. “You’re saying I can be easily replaced by a computer sim, Cold War, is that it? I’ll have you know, the real thing is a lot more impressive and articulate.”

“Be careful, Tony,” Bucky said, lowering his voice to a mock-growl, “or I’ll replace you with a very small shell script.” He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but Clint had taught it to him with the suggestion he use it on Tony. The way Tony’s eyes widened with surprise, checked cautiously to see if Bucky was serious or not, and then crinkled at the corners was exactly the reaction Bucky wanted.

Tony stepped up to him with a smirk and touched Bucky’s metal arm with the wicked caress that had been perfected over the past few months. “A script can’t do _this_ ,” Tony said, hand sliding up around Bucky’s neck and drawing his head down for a kiss. Bucky allowed it; even though they’d finished negotiations, they hadn’t actually _started_ yet, and Bucky was just weak and wanting enough from the combined lust and embarrassment of the discussion that he wanted some reassurance and affection.

When Tony’s tongue skated lightly over Bucky’s lower lip, affection surged into need. Bucky drew Tony into a tight embrace, reached down and grabbed a double-handful of that perfect ass, and lifted, rubbing himself against the cradle formed by Tony’s legs. Which led Tony to moaning aloud into Bucky’s mouth, sending a bolt of pure desire shivering down Bucky’s legs.

Reluctantly, Bucky let Tony back down, pushing him gently away, because much more of that and he was going to throw Tony to the floor, rip his clothes off and take him right there in the middle of the penthouse’s living room. Which wasn’t exactly an unappealing idea, just not what he wanted right _now_.

“You’re really okay with this, Zhelezoska?” Bucky asked, trying to get his breathing under control and failing miserably.

Tony scowled, which was kinda cute, and Bucky started wondering what he could do to get that expression more often. “Trust is a two-way street, Buckaroo,” he said, tipping Bucky’s chin until he reluctantly met Tony’s gaze. “I trust you. Even if I hadn’t before, I do now. You’ve done your homework, we’ve got a plan, and I am so, so _very_ ready. But if you don’t trust me that I know what _I_ want, that I’m a hundred percent onboard with this plan, and that I will absolutely tell you what I need, and if I’m getting too much, or too overwhelmed, then we’re not doing this.”

“I trust you,” Bucky said, pressing another kiss on Tony’s mouth, which was true. He was just still trying to wrap his brain around the idea that Tony _wanted_ this, wanted Bucky to give the monster its head. “You got your words down?”

“Yes, mutant worrybrain,” Tony said. “Green for go, red for stop, yellow for give me a minute.”

“And if you can’t talk?”

Tony rolled his eyes, but went through the same pattern, using some of the basic ASL Clint had taught everyone.

“All right, then,” Bucky said. He took a few, deep breaths. “Kiss me like you mean it.”

Tony’s grin flashed just a second and then he twined both arms around Bucky like a demented octopus, drawing him in for a soul-searing kiss. One of Tony’s hands fisted in Bucky’s hair, a steady pull that sent tingles across Bucky’s scalp; the other moved indiscriminately across Bucky’s body, sliding up his shirt to stroke his sides, along his back, then down the back of his pants. When Tony brought his hand up again, the light touch against Bucky’s ribs had him twitching and huffing out a breath.

Those teasing fingers wandered everywhere they could reach, and when Tony thumbed Bucky’s nipple, a burst of sensation went through his chest. He groaned and Tony ate the sound without hesitation, tongue pushing into Bucky’s mouth, invading and conquering. Bucky yielded, surrendered everything, letting Tony lead and guide and destroy Bucky with those sinful lips.

Bucky was shaking with need by the time Tony finally released him, panting for air like he’d run a marathon, the back of his neck heated and scalp tingling. “Ha,” Bucky said, catching Tony’s hands as they ran one last trace along his belly. “Okay. Good, that was…”

Tony scoffed, pleased with himself. “Good? Please, that was _magnificent_.”  

“It was good,” Bucky said, firmly. “So… color?”

“Green, Bucky,” Tony said. Bucky was a little surprised that he didn’t roll his eyes at that, but he just smiled. “Several shades above that really, so green it’s golden.”

“Just checking,” Bucky said. “Go in the bedroom. There’s a present for you on the bed. If you’re perfect when I come in, I’ll let you have it. Strip, get on your knees, and put your wrists behind your back. Stay there, okay?”

Tony nodded and bounced up on his toes to kiss Bucky’s mouth, but Bucky pushed him away lightly. “No. You haven’t earned that, yet. Go do as you're told.”

Bucky waited until the door closed behind him and then collapsed onto the sofa, twitching and shuddering. He needed to calm down, that was for sure, or this was going to be over before it started. He eyed the door for a moment, then shrugged. Why not? Tony had a problem with patience, so may as well make him earn that reward.

Bucky grabbed the tissue box and pulled it onto the sofa with him. He stripped his own clothes off, not taking any pains to hide the sounds. In fact, he made a little more of a production of it than he had to. He _wanted_ Tony to hear him. In fact...

Without letting himself think too much about it, Bucky turned the sofa around so it faced the door, then sprawled over it, legs splayed wide. Tony didn’t have anything as prosaic as a keyhole to peer through, but there cameras all over the place for JARVIS. “Give him the door display, JARVIS,” Bucky said, his mouth quirking up in that toothy grin that he knew Tony loved.

From inside the bedroom, Bucky could hear a strangled groan as Tony noticed the picture flick on. _That’s my boy,_ Bucky thought. He didn’t bother to look at the camera, even though he knew precisely where it was, just took himself in hand and stroked. Usually, stamina was not a thing that Bucky worried about; they’d discovered he was always good for three, back to back, with barely a refractory period at all. But today he wanted to be a little more restrained with his first one, take his time. Torture Tony, really, because that was what this was about.

Slow.

He looked down at himself, hand clenched around his dick, pulled up, slow, steady. Searched his memories for a particularly good one. The time he’d let Tony tie his wrists together was perfect; obviously mere silk rope wasn’t going to hold Bucky down, and the deal had been that Tony could do whatever he wanted, up until the rope snapped. Which hadn’t been as long as Bucky would have liked, because Tony point-blank refused to finish off the best blow job of Bucky’s life after the ties popped. It hadn’t even been on purpose, Bucky thought, grinning to himself; he’d just flexed his arms at the wrong time.

Of course, then Bucky had tickled Tony stupid and plowed him into the mattress, so it was still a win.

Bucky closed his eyes and chewed on his bottom lip while he stroked himself, listening. Tony was breathing hard, drawing breath in with shivery little gasps. Bucky opened his eyes, stared right into the camera and put his finger over his lips. “Shhhh!”

The squeaky, breathless gasp Tony made went straight to Bucky’s swollen cock and he arched up, unable to wait any longer, spilling onto his chest, over his hand.

Looking directly at the pinhole spot, Bucky licked his fingers off. “Ok, you can turn it off now,” he said, grabbing some tissues and cleaning up the rest of his mess.

Next to the table, Bucky had stashed a bag of gear; specifically, the outfit he’d finally agreed to let Tony dress him in. He rolled his eyes. It had been a minor sticking point for Bucky, because he’d rather have worn something more comfortable like jeans and a tee, but Tony wanted something a little more authoritative. Bucky had eventually agreed to some modifications, since his actual tac-gear was too restrictive for the long-term, bulky and protective, but not _sexy_. Tony had disagreed on the sexy part, but he also wasn’t the one wearing it.

Bucky pulled out the pieces: leather pants, a one-sleeved black shirt that clung to his chest like one of Steve’s ridiculous work-out shirts, boots, and a leather harness. Under normal circumstances, the harness held his holsters and weapons, but Tony had a thing for the buckles and straps, so this one was a little more elaborate than he normally wore into battle. Three straps buckled down one thigh and held a rod-holster, which he loaded with a short, black crop.

They had bickered about the crop, too. Tony had bought something flashy from a catalog and Bucky had picked the thing up, frowned at it, broke it in half, and thrown it away. “No, Tony. That thing is crap and the core is going to splinter in the middle, probably at the worst possible moment.” In the end, he’d gone to a dressage and tack store out mid-state and picked up an honest-to-god horse bat, neat, smart, leather-wrapped and simple. It made a satisfying crack against Tony’s thigh and was meant to keep a well-trained horse under control, not terrify or hurt the beast. It was perfect. Bucky slid it into the holster, letting his fingers touch the soft leather flapper.

He eyed the mask and the tac-goggles and decided against them. The mask muffled his voice unless he was on comms and they hadn’t played enough to risk miscommunication just yet. He grabbed the tube of black face-grease instead and did the smears that Clint called his “racoon eyes” for effect instead. He studied the look in the endless full-length mirrors that dotted the penthouse. Like the penthouse wasn’t big enough without the illusion of extra space. He looked a bit ridiculous to his own eyes, like a teenager who was a little too old to go out trick-or-treating, but was doing it anyway to be edgy.

Now the hard part; pulling on the attitude without getting lost in it.

He took three, deep, calming breaths, in through the nose until his lungs were full, and then a short, hard exhale through the mouth.

This was the part that worried him the most. He couldn’t give himself orders for this; too much existed in the play between Tony and him for something that simple. He needed to remain on the Bucky side of his eternal inner balance. Or maybe… his eyes widened for a second and then he nodded, thrusting himself into an entirely different quadrant of his personality, one that he hadn’t inhabited in a long time.

He tugged on his fingerless gloves and James Barnes headed to the bedroom, where his lover and slave awaited him.

***

Tony was perfect. Beautiful. Naked, too, which was always a plus. James paused in the doorway to admire; Tony was on his knees, eyes closed, chin tucked down on his chest, his perfect ass resting on his feet. He was shivering a bit, but James couldn’t tell if he was cold or excited. Just to be safe, James tapped the room’s temperature controls, nudging it up a few degrees. The system kicked in, almost silent, and the slight noise caught Tony’s attention. He looked up, saw James in the doorway.

[ ](http://sleepyoceanprince.tumblr.com/post/159340782033)

“Hey soldier,” Tony said, a tiny smirk touching his lips as he looked James up and down hungrily. That reaction was exactly why James had finally agreed to wear this ridiculous get-up, but there wasn’t any reason to admit it.

“Stand up,” James said. Tony scrambled to his feet, using one hand to push off of the floor, all lanky limbs and graceless. “Well, that was terrible. Do it again, keep your hands behind your back.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony said, going back to his knees. James touched the top of Tony’s head, keeping him from standing again immediately. James circled him, pulled the crop out of its holster and spun it ‘round in his hand -- his left hand -- letting the servos whine. He had better control of the left arm; it had been his dominant hand before the accident and the pressure indicators in the hand and bicep were precise. Unless James lost his temper, he never hit anything harder than he meant to with that hand. Therefore, crop was staying on the left.

“Straighten your back.” He stroked Tony’s spine with the flapper end of the crop, eliciting a shiver. “Get your heels under your ass, toes on the floor. Rock forward, then up. Like I’m pulling you up on a string, nice smooth motion. Try it.”

Tony tried again, staggering a little out of position once he was almost all the way up, his hands flailing to keep his balance.

“You need me to tie those behind you, to keep ‘em there?” James demanded, eyebrow up. He tapped the crop against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony considered it, head tilted to one side, his eyes sparkling. “I can do it,” Tony decided.

“Very good,” James said. “Again.”

Tony sank back to his knees and oh, that was lovely, perfect, graceful.

“Look at me,” James said. “Right here. My eyes. And stand up.”

Tony inhaled, then using his thighs to flex, he came up, stomach tightened enough that James could see him shaking with the effort. As he straightened, he slid one foot to the side, coming to a perfect parade rest, chin up, back straight, arms motionless.

“That’s very good,” James said. “Do you think you deserve your present yet?”

Tony licked his lips, eyes flicking to James’ face. “No,” he said, very soft.

“Why not?” James tilted his head to one side. “You can call me sir, or James, or soldier, your choice, but speak freely.”

Tony’s brown eyes went wide with surprise. “I… uh, watched the video feed, James.” There was a rough catch in Tony’s voice as he let the name slide between his lips and James felt it in the arches of his feet and to the ends of his fingertips.

“I meant you to,” James said. “Did you touch yourself while you were watching?”

Tony hesitated, like he wasn’t sure what the right answer was.

“It’s not a quiz, Tony,” James said. “I only want the truth.”

“I didn’t. Sir.”

“Well, then, you’ve earned your present. Go fetch it and bring it to me.” James slid sideways to watch Tony walk to the bed, not that Tony ever did anything so ordinary as _walk_. He sauntered, he pranced, he bounced, danced, or strutted. This particular gait was more of a mince, and he kept his arms behind his back -- very good, since he hadn’t been given leave to move them, which made fetching his present a little more difficult than perhaps James had expected, but he didn’t say anything, just watched as Tony pondered the problem, then turned around, did a perfect squat and snagged the present off the bed, catching it with his hands still behind him.

When he returned to James’s side, he was exposed, bare, glorious, and James watched with an appreciative eye. When James’ gaze narrowed in on Tony’s cock, only at half-mast but definitely perking up, Tony grinned, smug and satisfied. He didn’t quite say it, but James could hear the silent “ta-da!” when Tony stopped, turned, and presented the package to James, bending over just a little. James took the opportunity to stroke one hand across Tony’s bare ass before taking the package.

Tony let out a shivery breath, straightened, and turned around. “So, what’s in the box?”

James flicked the crop out, smacking it across the front of Tony’s thigh, quick, unexpected. Tony hissed, straightened up even more, and blinked. “Do you know why I did that?”

Tony opened his mouth, then ducked his chin, eyes chagrined. “I forgot to say sir or James or _soldier_.”

James hid a shiver; he always liked the sound of that word on Tony’s tongue, wanted to suck the sounds right out of his mouth. “Damn straight, you forgot. What do you think your punishment should be for that?”

“Didn’t you just…” Tony whined, then broke off quickly at the look on James’s face. “You could make me suck your cock, soldier.” James bit down on a laugh and a surge of sudden lust.

“You don’t deserve that,” James said. “That’s a privilege, and you haven’t earned it. But I did say you could have your present, so let’s do that first.” He opened the box and turned it to face Tony. Inside was a polished, black leather collar with four D-rings set around it, the buckle on the back shiny silver, and a stamped metal red star on the front.

Tony’s mouth dropped open and his eyes misted. “It’s lovely, sir.”

“‘Course it is,” James said. “You want it?”

“Yes, sir,” Tony said, reverently.

James took the collar and tossed the box aside, turning Tony to face away from him. “What’s this mean to you?”

“I’m yours, James,” Tony said. “You own me.”

“Damn straight I do,” James said, fastening the collar on. And then he couldn’t resist; he dropped a kiss on Tony’s neck just below the collar, licked at his spine, dropped to his knee and kissed the triangle of soft skin just at the small of Tony’s back. He slid one cold metal finger between Tony’s legs, spreading him a little. Tony squeaked with surprise at the chill touch. “I own you. You’re all mine.

“So… punishment,” James said. “Turn around.”

Tony turned slowly, and James didn’t move or stand up, so when Tony was facing him, his cock was inches away from James’ mouth, James’ breath hot against Tony’s skin. James slanted a look upward, taking fierce pride in the sight of Tony wearing his collar, and Tony whimpered, his cock fully upright and hard now.

“You… stand there. Don’t move an inch, don’t make a sound. Do not move your arms. We clear?”

Tony opened his mouth, shut it with a snap and nodded frantically.

“Not a sound,” James repeated, and Tony was on the inhale when James closed his mouth around Tony’s cock.

Tony closed his eyes, teeth firmly clamped on his lower lip, a strangled choke of air escaped him and his throat worked as he struggled. James smirked around a mouthful of Tony; Tony was _always_ talking, and during sex it was worse, pleading and swearing and filthy talk and obscene moans. Making him voluntarily muzzle himself had been one of James’ personal fantasies for quite some time. Almost entirely because James wasn’t sure Tony could actually _manage_ it.

James flicked Tony’s stomach with a finger until Tony opened his eyes and looked down, which was just what James wanted. Once he was looking, staring down at his own cock vanishing into James’s mouth, he was trapped, couldn’t look away. Low, barely audible, Tony whimpered in the back of his throat.

Once James had Tony all wet and slick, he pulled back, ignoring the faint protesting sigh, and then went to work torturing his lover. Long, slow, wet licks, followed by tiny flicks of his tongue around Tony’s cockhead. He worked at the slit, then trailed down, slow, to the base, lower, nudged at Tony’s balls with his nose, ran the edge of his metal thumb along the same wet line, never taking his eyes off Tony’s, making Tony _watch,_ and _stay still_.

Flowers of red flush broke out on Tony’s chest as he heaved for breath, shivered and shook, trying to remain motionless and choking back the moans and gasps and words fighting to escape his throat.

“Good boy,” James praised, then twisted up to his feet, leaving Tony standing there, gasping, hard as a rock, cock dripping. “Very nice. You’re so beautiful, Tony. You’re so good. You can have a reward.” James dropped into the nearby chair. “Come here. Kneel. You can have your arms back and your voice back, and you get two minutes, whatever you want to do for me, as long as you don’t leave your knees, okay? Is that good? You green?”

“Super green,” Tony blurted. “Sir. Soldier. James, oh, god, oh _god_ , that was perfect and cruel and…” He scrambled over to James, hitting the floor a little harder than probably necessary, babbling and swearing, and then he pulled James’ head down and kissed him, deep, sloppy, plundering and pleading, the faintest taste of blood in his mouth from where he’d been chewing his lip, and that taste sent James up in flames.

He took over the kiss, pulling Tony tight to him, hands gripping at Tony’s shoulders, thumbs coming up to caress Tony’s throat, running over the hard lines of the collar.

So, of course, as soon as James wanted to kiss him, Tony ducked away. He peeled up the tight-fitting shirt, got it rolled up and Tony’s thumbs rubbed in tandem across James’s nipples. James hissed, arched his back into that teasing touch and--

The mental countdown timer in his head went off, just as Tony’s mouth closed over his taut nipple, sucking it in and tonguing him frantically.

James might have done harder things in his life, but pushing Tony gently away ranked right up there with shit he didn’t want to do. “Time’s up,” he said.

Tony jerked backward, almost tumbling over, but James caught him with one slightly unsteady hand. “I gotcha.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony said, lowering his gaze. “Do you want me to…” He made a shapeless gesture and swung his hands behind his back.

“Nah, leave your arms down for a bit. Sit here, get comfortable. I’ll be just a minute.” James indicated the floor in front of the chair as he stood. He shivered all over, rolling his hip once, feeling the drag and pull of sex-heated leather across his groin, a sweet, nearly unbearable friction.

“Here,” he said, tossing Tony a bag. “Get these unwrapped and laid out, okay? Bend ‘em in the middle.” Tony grinned, eyes wide, as he dumped out several lengths of black and silver twisted rope.

Tony had declined to spoil the lines of his elegant, lifeless penthouse by setting up tie-downs in the walls, and rolled his eyes when James had suggested a wooden construction. Instead, he’d rigged up an assembly that was discreet, portable, and probably cost more money than James could imagine, grinning like a maniac when he’d unveiled it and showed off its many features.

James dragged the case out from under the bed; they’d used it twice before, with thin ropes, but this would be its first real field test.

James dropped it in the center of the room and thumbed the DNA lock. He took two steps back while the mechanism assembled itself into a framework with eyebolts for attaching leads and cuffs. The whole thing clicked together with sounds very similar to Tony’s armor closing over him, and since it was the red and gold armored form that had appealed to the soldier in the first place, there was something right and proper and deeply satisfying about that sound. James ran a single hand down the stout center support, admiring its sleek lines.

There was something darkly thrilling about the frame, too. Constructed in Tony’s fabrication units, it was more than sturdy, something that could even contain the full strength of the Winter Soldier, and it was both utterly terrifying and deeply arousing, to imagine that he might let Tony enclose him in those restraints, let Tony do whatever _he_ wanted. The thought about bent James in half with a deep cramp of _wanting_ right to the solar-plexus.

Not this time.

James lowered the platform for Tony to kneel, padded and relatively comfortable. A number of the websites and books he’d looked at -- he’d finally let Tony talk him into an electronic reader, although so far he’d only used it to order books that he didn’t want anyone else to see -- stressed that nerve damage was a real risk in this sort of activity. Painful for a normal person, diminishing Tony’s reaction times could get a lot of people killed. Not a risk James was willing to take, so everything had to be just right.

Once James had the rigging set up the way he wanted it, he gestured to Tony. “Bring the long rope, and come here.”

Tony wrapped the indicated rope over his forearm a few times, and then -- James’s heart nearly stopped -- _crawled_ over the floor to kneel at James’s feet, offering up the coil like a gift.

“I like you on your knees, baby,” James said, running his hand over Tony’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. “But come here, stand up. Arms at your sides.” James didn’t have to consult his files; he’d memorized the knot pattern and then practiced a few times on a mannequin he’d borrowed from Darcy Lewis. (Apparently she liked to sew mock-up Avengers costumes and go to comic book conventions with Thor pretending to be Thor. They hadn’t yet been found out, either, which was the best part of the whole thing.)

He looped the black rope through the front ring of Tony’s collar, then tied several quick, evenly spaced knots down the rope. “Still green?”

“Yeah, soldier,” Tony said. “Still green.”

Measuring carefully, James tied the last in this series of knots, brought the ropes between Tony’s legs, the rope splitting to cup either side of his cock. James nudged Tony’s asscheeks apart and made certain that final knot rested right against his hole. James tugged lightly at the ropes, listening to each gasp and hitch as Tony squirmed at the placement.

He looped the rope through the back D-ring, then did the weaving that formed the basis of the rope-harness: diamond pattern in the back, honeycomb in the front, marking off Tony’s skin in intricate patterns. The bindings didn’t restrict Tony’s movements in any way, a simple karada rope-dress; the visual was the key element. Well, that and--

He plucked one strand, twisting the knot between Tony’s legs. Tony groaned and shivered, then gave James a hot, needy glance. _And that_.

“Over here. Kneel, put your back against the bar, here.”

Tony climbed up obediently, squeaking as he pressed against the cold metal, and James kept a hand on his lower back to support and spot him. Once Tony was in place, James kissed him gently, licking Tony’s top lip until his mouth fell open, teasing at the corner of his mouth, then backed away. Tony was hard again, his cock straining between the two ropes, highlighted and on display. James ran his fingers down the length, eliciting a strangled moan.

James circled the rack, admiring. “So pretty,” he said. “You’re being very good, so good, Tony.”

Shorter ropes now. James circled Tony’s arms, three wraps over the elbow, a knot, three wraps under, until his arm was held, bent, then tied the wrists together and repeated it all on the other side, anchoring Tony’s arms just at the back of his neck, leaving Tony spread and vulnerable. James secured him to the post, lacing the remaining rope through the O-rings in the back.

He traced two fingers through Tony’s palm. “Squeeze.”

Tony’s grip was good, the skin still olive. “Good. Push back against me.”

Reactions all clear, so that was good. “Nice. Feeling okay?”

“Stop  making with the bedroom eyes and do something with me, that’d make me feel okay.”

James brought the crop down across the top of Tony’s thigh, thrilling at the hiss as it sliced through the air and the snap as it struck flesh. The skin went pale around the flag-end, then pinked, and Tony yelped. He tried to curl around the point of pain, bending as much as his bonds allowed, enough so that James winced at the way the rope dented his skin. Then Tony looked up and his eyes were absolutely blown, like dark pools of onyx. He straightened up, tilted his head back, baring his throat and James’s collar around it, and _surrendered_.

“Perfect, oh, baby,” James murmured, taking the offering of Tony’s throat and kissing him there, licking around the collar and nipping at the sensitive join between neck and shoulder until Tony was groaning and squirming for another reason altogether.

James ended that with a quick dip of his head, painting his tongue over Tony’s cock and backing off again before Tony could even react. He plucked the rope along the left side, tugging the knot that nestled between Tony’s asscheeks. Kneeling the way Tony was, James had no doubt that the knot was a constant source of tension, unignorable.

[ ](http://velvetmetal.tumblr.com/post/160761536541/)

James thumbed the bruise on Tony’s thigh as it was rising, pressing down until the skin went pale, then releasing pressure, smiling to himself as Tony moaned. Then he kissed it, licked it, tasted the faintest flavor of the leather, salt, sweat, that tang that made Tony _Tony._ “You don’t get to sass me right now,” James said. “That’s for another time. Right now, you do what I want, you act the way I want. And what I want from you is some damned _respect_.”

Tony’s eyes widened and if he could have gotten any harder, he would have. His cock dribbled precome, sliding down the thick length of it toward his balls and Tony whimpered at that, watching James watch him. “I respect you, sir,” Tony said, looking down, his tone so subdued that James’ jaw clenched. Tony wore his heart on his sleeve and kept a sharpshooter in place to guard it. He was honest and loving and excitable, and yet one of the most baffling people James had ever encountered, unable to handle a sincere conversation from one end to the other without trying to play it off, joking and posturing to prove how very little he cared. Except that he _did_ care. Tony cared so goddamn much it was painful.

Tony cared in the way James didn’t; Tony cared for the big picture _and_ for the little details. He was just as eager to get into a fight with powered villains as he was to build a bigger better potato gun for a kid who had problems with bullies.

James, on the other hand, cared fiercely about what was _his_ and the rest of the world could go hang. He liked to fight and his friends were willing to point his destructive energies in the proper direction, and James didn’t mind that. He knew it was better to be a hero than a villain, but the majority of the time, he didn’t really care. As long as it was his choice, and as long as his friends -- Tony -- were happy, then James was happy.

“I know you do, baby,” James said, soothing him. “I know. You’re trying really hard to be good for me, and I know that. But what you need to know here is that you don’t have to put up a front, and you don’t have to evade. I want you to be completely honest, and I want to take care of you. You know I’m going to do that, right? You don’t have to be in a hurry and it’s not a race. I’ll get you there, I promise.”

Tony’s eyes were huge, wide, vulnerable, misty enough to be considered on the verge of tears. “I love you,” Tony said and there was nothing but raw, naked honesty there. “Soldier.”

“You good?”

“Maybe a little yellow,” Tony admitted, and one tear slid free and dripped down his cheek, which was so painfully beautiful that James wanted to take a picture and save it for the rest of his life. “I could use a tissue, something to drink, and a minute to get myself together.”

“You got it, baby,” James said. “You need out?” Tony shook his head. “Okay, I gotcha.” James leaned over and kissed Tony’s forehead, then gave him a squirt from the plastic squeeze bottle. (That had been a good suggestion. Tony tilting his head back to drink while he was tied up seemed like an invitation for choking, and not the fun, sexy kind.)

James couldn’t help it; he captured that tear on his fingertip and tasted it, before he wiped Tony’s face.

James helped Tony blow his nose like a toddler, then leaned against him and petted him, stroking his hair and his back, running a finger lightly across his lower lip and smiling softly as Tony chased it with his tongue.

“‘M okay,” Tony said after a few minutes, putting his game face all the way on. It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it wasn’t all of the truth, either, and for just a second, looking at this lovely man, the ropes still holding him firmly in place, James considered pushing the issue, but… no. Sometimes you just didn’t want to bring a gun to a knife fight.

James could push, break through that wall of Tony’s that kept him skin-close and no closer, but maybe it was better to do it a little at a time, get under Tony’s defenses before the man realized he was inside. “Okay,” James said, accepting Tony’s word, then took up the last rope.

That rope frog-tied Tony’s legs, anchoring him to the platform. At this point, no wriggling or struggling could get Tony out without help, and there was virtually no risk that he’d tumble off if he flinched or slumped. James checked Tony’s fingers again -- no purpling or swelling, which was good. Tony wasn’t an inexperienced bottom; no, JARVIS’s collection of blue films with Tony in them made that pretty clear. And not all of it was JARVIS’s footage, either. A bad idea on the internet had led James down the rabbit hole of some of the sex tapes that had been leaked to the public. But still, Tony hadn’t done this in a while, and James probably shouldn’t keep him bound up for much longer before he’d need a break.

James leaned back to admire the finished product. Well, nearly finished; they weren’t quite there yet. He reached into the bag again and pulled out a bottle. When he uncapped it, the scent of butterscotch filled the room, a little overwhelming, but nice. Sweet.

James ran a stripe of the lube right up the sensitive underside of Tony’s cock, which twitched, eager, and… suddenly Tony’s eyes widened as the secondary effects took place. “Mmmmmmnnng,” he whimpered.

“Yeah?” James said, as if they were actually having a conversation, “that’s nice, right?”

The lube had a warming agent in it; James had tried it and it was pretty strong, almost painful. And Tony couldn’t rub against anything, couldn’t get any friction at all the way he was contained, could only whimper and twitch and make with the pleading eyes, which he did.

“And check this out,” James said. He leaned down and just breathed against that shiny patch, which heated the lube even more.

“Oh, that’s just, that’s not… nnnnnnng, dear god, you _bastard_ ,” Tony muttered, tossing his head from side to side, shaking in his bonds, struggling to get closer, or struggling to get away, it was difficult to tell, and so beautiful that James had to close his eyes against it. “That is just unfair.”

“Yep,” James said, relishing the word. “It surely is.” He made quick work of it, coating Tony’s entire prick with the lube, making sure to get the underside of his balls and twirling one quick finger around Tony’s hole. When he slipped the knot back in place, Tony shouted, squirmed, opened his eyes and tried to stare James into fucking him right then and there. It _almost_ worked.

Instead, James twisted himself down onto the floor and kissed the insides of Tony’s splayed thighs, not quite getting close to where Tony wanted him except to breathe more heat into it. He looked up and caught Tony’s gaze, then spread the lube over his lower lip with one finger. The taste erupted in his mouth, making his lip puffy. Tony’s eyes were drawn to that swollen bit of skin, hot and eager. When James kissed his thigh again, it left a shiny little spot. James dragged his tongue over it, then blew on it, which caused Tony to erupt into swearing and begging.

James circled around, dropping those stinging kisses at random: the outside of Tony’s thigh, the top of one knee, the arch of his left foot -- that one got a seriously high-pitched moan that dissolved into a series of choked giggles -- the small of his back. All the way around, but not touching, Tony’s left nipple.

By the time he made his way back to Tony’s throat, the heat of the drying spots would have faded. Well, unless James wet them again.

Giving Tony a wicked grin, he lowered his mouth, took Tony’s entire cock into it, feeling the heat of the lube against his cheek, over his mouth, the scent of butterscotch fierce against his enhanced senses, and Tony _screamed_ , mouth gaping open in ecstasy, eyes and head both rolling back, throat exposed, hands clenching and unclenching against Tony’s scalp.

“... please, please, sir, please….” Tony was babbling now, utterly undone. James stood, shut him up with a kiss, letting Tony taste the lube, feel how sensitive it made his lips, how sweet and sticky and slick it was and Tony launched himself into the kiss with as much strength as he had. Totally unable to hold James to him with hands or legs, he did his level best to keep James’s mouth on his, giving himself up completely.

“Okay,” James whispered, pulling back reluctantly. “Now’s the hard part, baby, you ready?”

“Green, green, yes, please, James, sir,” Tony said, straining to the edges of what little slack he had.

“Want you to count for me, and then ask, if you’re ready for another, okay?”

Tony nodded. “Yes, sir, _please_.”

James slashed down with the crop, a stinging blow against Tony’s thigh.

“One, sir,” Tony said, taking a huge gasp of air. He shuddered, licked at his lips. “Another, please.”

“Don’t clench up,” James whispered, running his hand over the fleshy part of Tony’s thigh, soothing the bruise. He whirled the crop through his fingers, spinning it like a combat blade until Tony was half-hypnotized by the motion, relaxed and easy. Then, _hisss, pop_ he came down on the other thigh.

Tony hitched in a breath, choked down on a soft cry. “Two… soldier.” He was gasping now, eyes huge and pupils wide.

“So lovely,” James said. He licked his thumb, starting the burn of the lube up again over his skin, and touched it to Tony’s lip. “There we go…”

“‘M good,” Tony murmured, then sucked, pulling James’s thumb into his mouth, licking the lube from his skin, sucking the pad up into his soft-palate, hollowing out his cheeks and giving James his best blow-job face. James slowly pulled his hand back out of range. “Another.”

James caught him on the underside of his arm with the third strike. Tony gasped, shivered, and fell against his restraints; if he hadn’t been bound, he would have tumbled to the floor.

“Three.” That came out high and breathy as Tony struggled to straighten up, to give the ropes their small amount of slack. James had to help him, gently pushing against Tony’s chest until he was upright and supporting his own weight.

“You good?”

Tony didn’t answer, and James checked his hands. Tony’s fingertips were brilliant red, the rope had been abrading his wrists as he struggled, but he turned his hand. _Slow down._

“Okay, I see it, we’re gonna pause a sec. You’re so good, baby,” James crooned, petting him again. “That one was tough, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, hoarse, hanging his head as if he was ashamed. “Not there again, that… that hurts. And not in a good way.”

James blanched, glad Tony couldn’t see him. He slid the crop back into his holster, checked the rising bruise. It wasn’t bad, no worse than the others, but maybe it was just sensitive, stretched the way it was. “You ready to come down, baby?”

Tony raised his head, stricken. “No, I can… I can do it, I… want you to be pleased, sir.” Tony’s cock was still hard as a rock, twitching and dripping. No matter what was going on in his head, Tony’s _body_ knew what it wanted.

“Oh, Tony, I’m already pleased, you’re so good. Look how strong you’ve been for me, how perfect, I couldn’t ask for anything else, you’re so good.”

“Two more, come on, sir,” Tony gasped out. “I can do it.”

“You _could_ ,” James admitted. “But you don’t have to.” James dropped to his knees again, between Tony’s thighs and swallowed Tony’s cock, taking it all the way back in one clean, swift stroke and Tony wailed, his head falling back, arms shaking. James tugged on the rope as he sucked, licked, tasted, dragging the knot over Tony’s sensitive, stimulated hole.

Whatever protest he was going to make was swallowed up as Tony suddenly let go, squirting up into James’s mouth like a bullet leaving a gun, and then he kept going, like he was a bottomless supply of come. James swallowed, then again, throat flexing to pull more and more sensation, letting Tony shudder through his aftershocks until he went limp against the ropes, shaking with spent relief.

“Hey.” James nudged him. “Five more minutes, or do you need out, now?”

Tony made the yes sign, nodding to make his point, his voice exhausted. James checked again, not quite trusting Tony not to push himself past his break point; because Tony absolutely would do that. It was James’s responsibility, as Tony’s Dom, to make sure that Tony didn’t hurt himself, trying to please James.

And obviously James wouldn’t step over Tony’s lines for his own pleasure. That would just be, as Tony often put it, _bad boyfriend etiquette_.

James wasn’t positive that Tony could take much more, but he was also aware that Tony would be deeply, deeply disappointed if he didn’t have some physical evidence that _James_ had enjoyed himself, too. Honestly, though, James thought, unbuckling his belt and letting it hit the floor, his own damn orgasm had nothing much at all to do with what was going on here. It was almost so unimportant as to be irrelevant. Which was not to say that James wouldn’t spank off to these memories for a while, but… ah well, part of his responsibility was also to please his sub, give Tony what Tony needed.

For an instant, James hesitated; what he was planning was a bit degrading, and rather filthy, but all things considered, that probably just meant that Tony would like it more.

“Hey, hey, Tony?”

“Mmmhmm?” Tony said, not looking up, just resting against the pressure of the ropes.

“Come on, honey, need you to look at me,” James said. He unsnapped the leather pants and made very sure the zipper was clear before he pulled it down, because his erection had been pressing at the closure for quite a while now, and that was pain he didn’t want to deal with.

“Yeah?” Tony rocked his head to the side and opened his eyes, then they opened wider as James peeled the leather pants down his hips some.

“I’m gonna rub one out before I cut you down, baby. Where do you want it, on your chest or your face?”

Tony straightened all the way up, eyes wide. “In my mouth, soldier.”

James rolled his eyes a little. “I’m taller than you, I ain’t that tall.”

Tony smirked. “Figure it out. You’re the boss, sir.” Which meant that he’d already figured it out and was being a brat, of course.

Hmmm. James studied the shape of the rig; it was heavy and sturdy enough that his weight shouldn’t overbalance it. “Fine,” he huffed. “Do it your way, then, you bossy little sub.”

He climbed up onto the platform, grabbed hold of the top of the rig with his metal hand, and got himself arranged in directly in front of Tony, who was eagerly gaping at him like some sort of demented baby-sex-bird, mouth opening and closing.

Keeping his balance was a little tricky and involved crunching his stomach muscles in a way that he was so unaccustomed to that he could feel muscle burn in his lower back. He wasn’t going to last long like this, because it was almost like doing a pull-up into Tony’s mouth. He couldn’t hold it long, but Tony’s tongue was light and dancing over his cock with enthusiasm that more than made up for the terrible angle.

James threw a lock-command down his arm, which tightened his grip and held it in place, then thrust up, curling his back and letting his knees take his weight. Tony’s lush mouth closed over his cockhead. James groaned, felt teeth scrape lightly over the ridge and lost it. He couldn’t hold the pose, lost it halfway through and while Tony got a mouthful, the rest of the load splattered against Tony’s cheek and chin, dripping down his throat and onto his chest.

Just looking at that, Tony wrung out and used and weary, made James clench up and he cussed a streak as he came again, so hard it was painful. Tony ducked his head to catch some of that, too, licking the corner of his mouth with a satisfied, smug expression.

“Uff,” James said, trying to get his feet under him and remember how to issue the unlock without falling on his ass at the same time. He frowned, twisting his wrist, but his fingers wouldn’t move.

“What’s up?” Tony said, eying the metal arm.

“M’ hand’s cramped up, if you can believe it…”

Tony laughed, weakly, sagging against the ropes, a slight, hysterical edge to it. “Oh, I believe it. Typical, hehehe... You’re --hehe-- cramped up and the only one who can fix it is me...hehehe… only I’m all tied up.” He burst into giggles at his own bad pun.

***

“Right.” Bucky fell all the way out of the James persona, like stripping off mud with a bucket of cold water. “Well…” He eyed the rigging. It wouldn’t be terribly difficult to rip through the rigging, although he wasn’t sure what the structural integrity of the layout was, and if he pulled through, the resulting destruction might hurt Tony, who was, after all, tied to the damn thing.

The scissors were on a peg behind the rigging where Bucky could have easily gotten to them -- safe, sane, consensual -- if he wasn’t stuck. God damn it. He did NOT want to have to have JARVIS ping someone discreetly, because there was no way he would not get shit about this, even if it was mild, secretive shit from Tash. She had elaborate eyebrows over her breakfast tea that Bucky couldn’t quite face on a regular basis.   

“Hold on,” Bucky said.

“To what, exactly?”

Bucky laughed, which eased some of the tension out of his spine and let the knot in his stomach ease. “I love your smart mouth, Tony,” he said. “Now, hold still.”

Tony rolled his eyes with an expressive _what else am I going to do here anyway_ spin.

Bucky lifted, pulling his feet off the floor, twisted, and angled himself between the sets of tie-downs, landing on the platform just behind Tony’s foot, stretched, twisted, and snagged the scissors. With another heave, he pulled himself back out, managing to avoid kicking Tony in the head on the way by, which was good.

“Okay, yeah,” Tony said, his eyes alight, “that makes up for not getting the murder strut when you came in here, okay. Yeah. I’m a fan of watching my boyfriend do insane gymnastics. That’s a sport I can get into.”

“Glad t’be of service,” Bucky said, shaking his head, trying to get his hair out of his face. “Don’t twitch, okay?” He let his feet drop, stretching as far as he could, and cut the frog-ties free, the sharpened blades slicing through the ropes with quick efficiency.

Awkwardly, he shoved the scissors into the harness over his leg that was still buckled. “Okay, I’m going to help you get your legs out from under you, okay? Can do you that, Tony? Just sit on the platform.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, slurring a little bit, and listing to one side like he’d had too much to drink. “Yeah, I got about five more minutes in me, I think, sir.” Bucky tightened his jaw; if he had to pull free, he would, but maybe he could get Tony out before he had to go being destructive.

“I’m gonna cut your arms free now,” Bucky said. “Try not to fall on me while I’m still holding scissors, yeah?”

Tony nodded. Bucky moved carefully, getting most of his torso directly into Tony’s path before slicing the anchor ropes and Tony pitched forward, catching him right in the chest. Bucky lifted his left leg and braced his foot on the platform, giving Tony something safe to lean against. “Okay, okay, got this.” He slipped the blades between the elbow ties, then unwrapped the loops over Tony’s wrists. Tony went boneless, slumping over Bucky’s thigh. “I got you,” Bucky said. He pulled his other leg up, holding himself up with his stuck arm, bracketing Tony between his legs. His core muscles were shivering at this point, straining. He might actually be _sore_ the next day, which was amazing to think about.

“Hmmmm,” Tony murmured, his face against Bucky’s chest. “Look what I found…” And Tony’s hand cupped Bucky’s dick, which was, after all, still sticking out of his leather trousers.

“Tony…” Bucky whined, inhaling sharply as he went hard again, aching and needy. “This is incredibly inappropriate right now.”

“That’s pathetic, honeybear,” Tony said. “You of all people should know I’m only going to take that as a challenge.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest and Tony came down on him with that wicked, sinful mouth and he lost his entire train of thought, crunched his stomach up further to bring himself closer, groaning deep in his throat. “You… you… Christ… you,” Bucky moaned. “God, Tony, the mouth on you.”

Tony grinned up at him through a mouthful of cock, the expression doing interesting things to the sensation of wet, hot silk around Bucky’s skin, then he pulled back, and Bucky whimpered. “I thought it was my mouth on _you_.”

“Bad puns? That’s what we’re doin--” Bucky arched up as Tony pushed Bucky’s pants down further, getting a hand in between Bucky’s legs, rubbing at his perineum. “Oh, my God, Tony, you son of a bitch…”

“Shhh, Bucky, just let it happen,” Tony murmured, twisting a finger up inside, lubeless, which burned and stretched and god, felt sooo good. Bucky writhed, pulling himself up further, changing the angle.

“Nnnnnnngh, Tony, I can’t--”

“Sure you can,” Tony said, soothing, quiet, pushing in further, dropping wet, slick kisses across Bucky’s stomach, licking at the head of his cock.

Bucky grabbed hold of the rigging with his other hand, feeling the bite of metal under his palm, whining and swearing and groaning as Tony worked him over. Tony’s finger curved and nudged Bucky’s prostate, stroking and teasing, and Bucky swallowed hard, the white-hot intensity of his orgasm spinning over and down, tumbling and turning and shattering him into a million little pieces. “Oh… god…”

He slumped, fingers slipping, and then caught himself with a jolt as everything started working again. “Crap.”

Tony grinned. “That was the plan all along, sweetheart,” he said.

Bucky sighed, let go, and dropped to his feet, his knees almost giving out under him. “You are--”

“--wonderful, fantastic, give great blowjobs and you love me more than life itself,” Tony filled in.

“Something like that, yeah,” Bucky said. He leaned over and kissed Tony, deep and wet, heedless of Tony's being absolutely covered in Bucky’s own come.

“Okay,” Bucky said, once he pulled back, his stretchy shirt absolutely ruined and dripping. “You gonna let me take care of you now, or are you gonna keep bein’ a brat?”

“Is that an option?” Tony asked, tilting his head to one side, wiggling his eyebrows obscenely.

“No, it’s not,” Bucky said firmly. He checked his balance and then lifted Tony up, princess-style, to take him into the bathroom.

The bathroom was already steamy -- the sauna features were pretty nice for that -- and Bucky set Tony down on one of the benches and wiped him down gently with a damp washcloth.

Then he let Tony sit and relax while Bucky peeled himself out of his own clothes, which was almost more effort than it was worth. “Jeans, next time, swear to god,” Bucky muttered, half-tempted to go get the damn scissors.

“Oh, good,” Tony said, blinking blearily at him.

“What’s good?”

“ _Next_ time,” Tony stated, like it was obvious. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna freeze up over a couple of little mishaps, because, I’m telling you, they happen more often than most people want to admit.”

Bucky snorted, finally getting his legs out of the damn pants. “Are you even kiddin’ me right now?” He flicked the shower on, taking down the detachable head and testing the water. “That was… the best. Sex. Ever. You think you’re gonna get away from me now, you’re absolutely lyin’ to yourself.”

Tony yawned, stretching like a sleepy kitten, and curled up against Bucky’s thigh. “Good… perfect. Looking forward to it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, grinning despite himself. “You’re insatiable,” he said, leaning down and kissing Tony’s wet hair.

“Believe it.”

**Author's Note:**

> As a note: We wrote some stuff out of order. Tony and Bucky are going to have a discussion about exploring kinks, but that conversation hasn't happened yet in the stuff we've posted. So, while this does take place in the same universe as the rest of the Communal Kitchen, it actually takes place a few months after the conclusion of [Michigan Seems Like a Dream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708449/chapters/21903554) (which we've only just started posting today).
> 
> That said, this is pure smut with no relevance whatsoever to any of the running plots.
> 
> Headcanon: somewhere in an alternative universe, Tony Stark runs a VERY high end sex shop. That is all.


End file.
